Lisa Photo

When Lisa Dumont travels down to New Orleans to stay with her mother for the summer, she finds herself entangled in a web of century-long territorial disputes between undead and supernatural forces. Lisa soon realizes that she has become torn between the blood-loyalty to her mother, Voodoo Priestess Madam Dumont, and the intrigue she has grown towards Elder Vampire, Hezekiah Mercier - the enemy. And consequently, the heavy discord between the two factions leaves Lisa with life-changing decisions to make that could possibly alter the fate of both groups and everyone else in between.

After being saved by an unknown man who turned out to be Ricardo Kincaid, the successor and only son of Mr. Desmond Kincaid, the CEO and founder of Megabiz, Lisa Thompson was hellbent on having a relationship with him despite his coldness. But one thing that Lisa was unaware of was that Ricardo Kincaid might not be the man she thought he was. He might be hiding a secret that might destroy them if it ever got out...

My boyfriend, Allen, is a fitness coach who is cheerful, handsome, and has eight-pack abs. After getting together with me, he transferred all his female students to other colleagues and would send me daily check-in photos. In anticipation of becoming his fiancee, I happily prepared for our engagement ceremony. However, two weeks before the ceremony, I discovered a bright red lipstick mark on Allen’s workout pants. I quickly pulled up the check-in photo he had sent me that day. Through the reflection on a dumbbell, I saw a woman standing next to Allen—her lips painted in the exact same lipstick color. Most of the previous photos had flaws, but I had trusted Allen too much to notice them. Looking at his message under the photo, I let out a cold laugh. "Baby, I have to work overtime today to train a male student." He actually dared to deceive me. Just then, my phone rang. It was the wedding planning company confirming the engagement ceremony setup. I quickly responded with a confirmation. The ceremony would proceed as planned—except I had a special surprise prepared for Allen, one he would never forget.

Ethan Shaw had died. Before the funeral, his wife, Stella Walker, packed his belongings and found a thick photo album. [My True Love] On the cover, it said— She opened it. The photos inside were not of her. They were Rachel Chester—the girl Ethan had adopted years ago. Not only that, Ethan left all his wealth to her. Stella died with hate in her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the night before she married Ethan. This time, she chose to live for herself and walked away from Ethan to pursue her own dream. What she did not expect was that, in this life, Ethan went mad looking for her when she left. He searched for her everywhere.

What would you do to protect your brother after he protected you from your abusive father growing up? For Lisa, that means agreeing to an arranged marriage with a man who’s just as horrible as her father. Despite her pending nuptials, Lisa cant stop herself from falling in love with Davis, a man fifteen years her senior who resembles a Viking more than a modern-day man. With his heart of gold and protective nature, can he teach Lisa to be strong? Is there an escape from her arranged marriage? Saved By A Viking is a sequel to Saved By A Dark Billionaire, but can be read as a stand alone book. The third book will be titled Saved By Her Best Friend. I hope you enjoy the book!

I've always dreamed about finding my true love but falling in love with a handsome vampire was a shocker. He was handsome, dark and mysterious. His eyes were always on mine, but he always acted cold towards me. I don't know what I did to deserve such inhumane treatment from him. But I got my answer the day I sneaked into his strange home with my little puppy Bingo. I grasped a broken photo frame that Bingo had knocked off the table. I cleared off the broken glasses carefully. My eyes widened in shock when I saw the photo. It was a picture of a girl with dark brown hair and brown eyes just like mine. The most weird part was that she looked exactly like me. She was wearing a white sparkling wedding dress and a man with black curly hair had wrapped his arms lovingly around her. It was Hayden. This was a wedding photo taken 18 years ago. Someone snatched the photo from my hands when I turned around, and I met Hayden's angry gaze. “What are you doing here?!” He growled furiously. “ Who is Azalea and why does she look like me?” I demanded furiously. I swallowed hard. Furthermore, I think I might have discovered the biggest secret ever.

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."